Shari nearly chokes on her soda. “Excuse me, what?”
I look at her. “What?”
“You have access to an exclusive New Year’s Eve party full of hockey players and famous people and free desserts,” she says. “And you are choosing leggings and Netflix?”
“Yes,” I say. “Security will be there. PR will be fine. Bryce does not need me hovering over him like a parole officer. He is a grown man. He can behave for one night. Plus, I assigned two interns to watch him.”
Three pairs of female eyes hit me at once.
It’sThe Look.
The universal, multi generational, telepathic expression women use when another woman is lying to herself.
“I am serious,” I insist. “I do not need to be there. I am not avoiding anyone. I am just… choosing rest. Boundaries. Order. Control.”
Mia sips her drink. “You keep saying that word.”
“What word?”
“Control,” she says. “Like if you say it enough, it will magically appear.”
“New Year’s at an exclusive party sounds amazing,” Shari says. “I want to meet the guys. I want to see Dex in his natural habitat. I want to eat tiny fancy desserts and pretend I’m important.”
“You are important,” I say automatically.
She waves a hand. “To you, sure. I mean important with good lighting.”
The table laughs.
I fight a smile and fail.
“I'm still not going. Shari and I already have our movie lineup ready.” I say, more to myself than to them.
Harper exchanges a look with Mia.
“Okay,” she says lightly. “Sure. We believe you.”
They don't believe me.
***
By the time I get home, I have convinced myself I am strong and resolved and absolutely not thinking about Bryce in a suit.
My plans are set. Shari should already be at my place, making her famous lasagna…her idea. I am looking forward to hanging out with my bestie and keeping it low key.
I kick off my boots, toss my keys in the bowl, and my phone buzzes.
Unknown number.
No.
Not unknown.
I know that number now.
Bryce:You don’t have to babysit me tonight.
I stare at the screen, heartbeat picking up.
